


hope is a dangerous, disquieting thing

by this_little_lighthouse



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, I dont really know, I guess???, I had fun writing, M/M, but also i think its hilarious, i dont know what else to tell ya, i have no idea what this is, if youre not sold by now then maybe this aint for you, it makes me cry a little, its in the past, neil goes by abram, pioneer au???, please enjoy this, seth says howdy, thats all I got, there are some horses, they live on a farm, vaguely little house on the prairie?, wymack is very yee yee country in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_little_lighthouse/pseuds/this_little_lighthouse
Summary: Abram had been walking for over five hours with no purpose and no sense of direction other than away. He wished he still had a horse. That would really speed along the whole process of running. But it did no good to dwell on the past or impossible wishes. If his mother has taught him anything, that was it.Or, the one where Abram is on the run and stumbles on Wymack and his farm full of misfit adopted children. Wymack is gruffly inviting, Andrew is interesting and interested, and Abram is very very determined to not get attached, not draw attention, and keep moving. But Abram's experience in the unconventional home and the people in it may just be enough to keep him from running for once, or at least give him something to come back to.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 25
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so i got this general idea from some post I saw on instagram one time and now cannot find for the life of me. So if you wrote something about being a young orphan boy who stopped at a stranger's farm looking for work and a place to stay and sleeping in the barn and meeting the farmer's son who wasn't married even though he should be and striking up a conversation with him and feeling something for the first time, thank you. This ones for you. Because i read that and my mind immediately said ‘andriel’ so really I wrote this entire thing just for the last scene. I'm not sure whether to say thank you or i'm sorry but yeah. Here you go. Also this is my first post on ao3 bc its the first piece of fanfiction that i have actually completed and i'm kind of completely terrified but its fine, im fine, everythings fine. If more than like two people that i don't know read this i will be a happy camper. Ok now i'm just rambling, so i'm gonna stop now. If you made it this far, thank you for sticking through my shenanigans, I hope you enjoy the farm au literally no one asked for.

Abram had been walking for over five hours with no purpose and no sense of direction other than  _ away.  _ He wished he still had a horse. That would really speed along the whole process of running. But it did no good to dwell on the past or impossible wishes. If his mother has taught him anything, that was it.

His stomach growled, reminding him of his current problems. He hadn’t had anything to eat since… yesterday? The day before? Longer? Abram couldn’t remember anymore but it didn’t really matter. His stomach was revolting at its current empty state and he would need food to keep up his energy. No use running from demons only to die from starvation before they could kill him themselves. Not that they would really care all that much. They just wanted him dead. And if Abram had to pick one thing he hated more than anything else it was the demons getting what they wanted. So he stayed alive. He stayed alive, fueled by spite and pure stubbornness. 

There was a man outside. He was bigger than Abram would have preferred, tanned arms heavily muscled from lifelong work on the farm. Abram had no doubt that if it ever came down to a physical fight, the man would win. He had to hope that it never got to that point and trust that if it did, his speed would be enough. Plus, he didn't have any room to be picky. Abram was out of both time and options. He sent a silent plea into the general abyss and forged ahead. “Here goes nothing,” he murmured. “Evening, sir,” he said out loud. 

The man looked up. “Evenin’. What’s your name, boy?”

Abram took his hat off and held it to his chest. He heard his mother's voice in his head.  _ ‘Let them see your face. Give them that honesty. All that easier to make them trust you.’  _ “Well sir,” he said, “to be real honest, I’ve had more names than I can remember. But you could call me Abram, on account of it being the last name my mama called me before she passed away.”

“Well, son, I'm real damn sorry to hear that. What can I do for ya?”

“I never learned to write and I can only read a little, but I’m mighty good with horses. I saw you had some down in the barn, I can train em up if they need it or if you’ll have me. And I can mend those fallen fence posts I saw on my way in. And anything else that needs fixin around here. I’m also handy with traps and knives so I can catch some wild game. I don’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a barn to sleep in, sir.”

The man studied him in silence for a minute. Abram did his best to project a confident yet reluctant and sheepish persona. He wasn’t sure he succeeded until the man said, “Well now, I reckon we might have room for you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Surely one more won’t hurt,” he muttered more to himself than anything. “Don’t see how much difference it will make.” He straightened and looked back to Abram. “My name’s David Wymack, but you can call me Wymack or Pa, that’s what all the other kids call me. Only one of em is actually my kid, but good luck tellin the rest of em that.” 

Abram nodded like he understood. Wymack moved to clap him on the back but Abram took a quick, practiced step just out of reach. Wymack’s eyes darkened slightly but he said nothing, simply gesturing for Abram to follow him. 

The door beyond the farmhouse opened to reveal cream walls and wood floors, a train of worn shoes lined up by the door, as many jackets hanging above them. There was a large metal wash basin in the corner and a poorly stitched crochet rooster still in the circular frame hanging on one wall. Everything about it screamed  _ domestic  _ in a way that Abram had never been able to experience himself. He felt a strange longing deep inside of himself to have a place for his own shoes in the line, a hook of his own for his jacket, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. It was no use daydreaming impossibilities. He wouldn't be here long. 

With that thought in mind, Abram turned, his gaze catching on a short blond boy leaning against the doorway watching him. 

“Oh good, Andrew.” Wymack said from somewhere behind him. “Will you go tell Abby to set another place for dinner?”

Andrew’s face lifted into a smirk for half a second before settling back into a blank mask. “Abby,” he shouted over his shoulder without moving. “Wymack brought another stray to dinner!”

“Jesus Christ, kid.” Wymack muttered. “You know that ain’t what I meant. I coulda done that.”

Andrew just shrugged, face impassive. Footsteps came from further in the house, bringing along with them a tall tan skinned boy and another short blond boy that looked eerily similar to Andrew.

“Oh shit, you weren’t kidding,” the tall boy said. Then to Abram, “I’m Nicky, by the way.”

“Aaron,” said the boy beside him.

Abram flicked his eyes to Andrew. “Twins,” Aaron said by way of explanation. 

Abram nodded and filed that way for later, then discarded it when he remembered that this was temporary. Very temporary. 

“And what’s your name, cutie?” Nicky asked.

“Uhh, Abram,” he said, taking a small uncomfortable step back. 

“Leave him alone Nicky,” Andrew ground out.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Don’t traumatize him before he even meets everyone.”

Wymack sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Let’s just go eat. Please refrain from flirting at the table.”

Nicky rolled his eyes, but turned and led the way to the kitchen where a short, round woman wearing a worn dark blue calico dress was bustling around a large pot. “Renee, would you go ring the dinner bell please?” 

The dark haired girl cutting bread smiled. “Course, Abby.” She set the knife down and walked out the door by the table, the only other door to outside Abram had noticed. He heard more than saw what must have been the dinner bell, closely followed by excited shouts, quickly growing closer. Renee walked back in, two dark skinned curly haired boys and a darker skinned curlier haired girl close on her heels.

Abram watched them as they piled into the room, loud and laughing. If he was any good at reading body language, and he was, Abram would say that the taller boy and the girl were a couple, or they at least fancied each other. Not that that information was really important in any way, as Abram wouldn’t be here long enough to put it to any use.

“Wait,” Abby cried, holding a hand out to stop the three form coming any farther inside. “Dan, Matt, Seth, take your shoes off and go wash your hands for super, you're filthy.” Abram couldn’t tell for sure which name belonged to which person, but he reminded himself it didn’t really matter. He wouldn’t be here long enough to really meet them anyway. 

“Where’s Kevin?” The expressive twin asked.  _ Aaron,  _ A bram’s mind supplied. He cursed his stupid ability for name recollection. It only made things that much harder to leave.

Abby glanced around the ever filling kitchen. “Did he not come in? I reckon he’s down with the horses still. Would’a call him again, Aaron?” 

Aaron grumbled something most likely rude under his breath but headed to the door. Loud incessant clanging filled the air, not relenting until a voice in the distance shouted, “Okay, okay, I’m coming! Calm down!” 

The imminent arrival of what must have been their last member seemed to flip a switch in the room. Abby started issuing jobs, and suddenly the relative stillness became loosely controlled chaos as people set about gathering bowls and filling them, setting spoons on the table, putting bread on plates, filling water glasses. Abram pressed himself against the wall and tried to stay out of the way. 

“They’re a lot to handle all at once,” said a voice from his side. He turned to see Andrew watching him. 

“I reckon they'd be a lot to handle individually too,” Abram said in a rare moment of truthfulness. 

Andrew smiled ruefully, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which remained as flat and impassive as always. “That, they are,” he said. Abram wondered absentmindedly what it would take to make Andrew really smile, what it would look like if he did. 

Before Abram really had time to unpack that thought or shove it deep down inside him where he could take it out and examine it later, they were summoned to the table to eat. 

Somehow everyone ended up seated at the table, Abram squished between one of the tall dark skinned boys and a blonde girl who had definitely not been there before, with more bows and ribbons on her dress than Abram had ever seen in his life. Andrew sat across from him, and Abram got distracted for a second watching the flickering candlelight reflected in his golden eyes.

“You're new,” the girl said. “I’m Allison Reynolds.” She said her name like it meant something, and if she lived even a slightly normal life, a life Abram could never dream of, he supposed maybe it did. “And you are?” She prodded, when Abram took too long to respond.

“Abram,” he said faintly. 

“Abram,” Allison repeated. “A pleasure.”

“I’m Matt,” the boy on his other side said, sticking his hand across the table for Abram to shake, his sleeve falling into his stew. 

“Good lord, Matt,” the other girl muttered, grabbing a cloth and dabbing at his sleeve. “I’m Dan, by the way. Nice to meet you, Abram. This is Seth,” she said gesturing to the boy next to her.

Seth grinned at him and tipped his head. “Howdy.”

There was a scuffle and a thud, as if someone had been kicked, and the dark haired boy across from Seth looked up with a muffled grunt. “What,” he said, looking bewildered. 

“This is Abram,” Aaron said slowly from beside the dark haired boy, nodding in Abram’s general direction. 

“Ok,” the boy said, still sounding confused. 

“And you are…” Aaron prodded.

“Oh. I’m Kevin.”

Abram forced a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kevin repeated and, seemingly satisfied with these introductions, went back to his stew. 

“Abram will be stayin’ with us for as long as he needs,” Wymack said, looking around the table. “So y’all need to be nice and welcoming, ya hear?” The last part seemed to be directed to Andrew, nodded with a mock innocent face.

“Andrew, I swear-”

Abram cleared his throat. “Umm, thank you, sir, but uhh, I won’t be stayin’ here long. Just for the night. I need to get movin’ again come the morrow.”

“You’ll stay here as long as you need to,” Wymack said again, an indecipherable look in his eyes.

Abram just nodded and said nothing else. He caught Andrews gaze without meaning to first and feeling vaguely like he had lost some sort of competition, failed some kind of test.

The rest of dinner passed relatively smoothly, with only a few questions directed towards Abram, most of which he was able to direct back to the others and the rest of which he answered vaguely truthful or just completely lied. Andrew tried to catch his gaze several other times, but Abram forced his eyes away. 

Allison left soon after dinner, as she had actual parents to get back to, though she seemed reluctant to leave. Abram knew from experience that family wasn’t always those related to you by blood, but he had never let anyone else close enough to try to redeem the title. 

“I’m real tired,” Abram said after they finished cleaning up. “If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’d rather like to get some sleep now.”

“Course, kid,” Wymack said. “Now, we got an extra bed, but you’d have to share a room with this oaf here.” He smacked Matt on the back of the head lovingly.

Matt grinned and rubbed his head where Wymack had hit him, looking sheepish. “Hey now, I only snore a little bit. Promise.”

Abram shifted uncomfortably. “Umm, actually, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d be fine with just a blanket and maybe a pillow. I can sleep in the barn if you got room, I don’t wanna take up too much of your space here.”

“The space ain’t a problem son, but if you’d be more comfortable in the barn, then that’s plenty alright with me. Andrew, grab some blankets and a pillow and show Abram to the barn, would ya?”

“Sure thing,  _ Pa _ ,” Andrew said, drawing out the last word almost mockingly, but there was something in Andrew’s face when he said it that made Abram think Wymack meant more to Andrew that he would ever admit. 

Wymack rolled his eyes fondly and Abram was struck with the thought that  _ this was a family. _ He ached in a way he couldn’t understand when he watched them, so he turned away. And then Andrew was in front of him, shoving a pillow in his hands and heading out the door without a word, apparently assuming Abram would follow. He wasn’t wrong.

The barn was pretty big as far as barns in this area were concerned, a ladder close by the doors leading up to a very large, very full hay mow. Abram inhaled deeply, savoring the warm heavy scent of hay and horses. Dust filtered through the air, only visible as far as the light cast by Andrew’s lantern reached. A slightly closed off space to the right served as a very well furnished tack room, and Abram looked longingly at the saddles, the memory of leather under his legs and reins in his hands achingly close. Soft whinnies drew his attention to the three horses standing in stalls along the opposite wall, all happily munching on hay. They looked up when Andrew and Abram walked in, but went back to their food without much fuss. 

“They’re Kevin’s,” Andrew said, watching Abram watch the horses. “He might let you help him work them if you ask him nice enough.” 

Abram tore his eyes away from the horses and looked at Andrew. For reasons he didn’t entirely understand, he heard himself whisper, “I used to have a horse.” 

Andrew stared at him for a minute, as if waiting for him to say more, but Abram didn’t offer anything else and Andrew didn’t ask. Instead, he laid the blankets on a pile of straw by the horses stalls which would probably be the nicest place Abram had slept in for a long while. 

With a bored glance in his direction, Andrew pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, taking a long drag as he coaxed the stick to life. 

“Ain’t it a bad idea to be smoking in a barn full of dry hay and straw? You tempting fate or something?”

Andrew released a long curl of smoke from his mouth with a slow breath, and Abram’s gaze drifted down, tracing the outline of Andrew’s lips with his eyes. “Or something,” Andrew said, pulling Abram’s gaze back to his own as he tapped ash onto the ground. 

Abram rolled his eyes, but when Andrew offered him the cigarette, a challenge in his stare, Abram took it, breathing in and releasing a cloud of smoke with practiced ease. He could feel Andrew watching him, but he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting smoke spill from his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he handed the stick back to Andrew with a wink. Andrew squinted at Abram, but kept looking at him as he placed his lips where Abram’s had been just moments before. 

Andrew continued to smoke in silence, leaning against the edge of the doorway and watching the stars. Abram joined him on the other side, the heavy weight of smoke and secrets on his tongue. Andrew finished the cigarette and ground it into the floor with his heel. Without looking up, he said, “You are far too interesting for your own good, Abram.”

The lack of a surname lingered in the space between them, mixing and swirling with the smoke and the cool summer air. “Who are you?” Andrew asked softly.

“I’m no one. Not any more,” Abram answered honestly. 

Andrew hummed, seeming unsatisfied. “Who are you running from, little rabbit?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone in the morning and you’ll never see me again.”

“Is that so.” Andrew raised an eyebrow looking utterly unconvinced, and Abram felt seen, _ known  _ in a way he never had been. It was thrilling and terrifying, and Abram wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop. 

Andrew smirked. “I’ll figure you out soon enough, rabbit.”

Something in Abram stirred and he looked down, begging it to still again.  “I’m not a math problem.”

“I’ll still solve you.” When Abram finally looked up at Andrew, he was already looking back and Abram was struck with the thought that he wanted to tell Andrew things, maybe even  _ everything, _ and he didn’t think Andrew would cower from the ugly reality that was Abram’s life. Then with a two fingered salute and a last, lingering glance, Andrew pushed off the doorframe and headed back to the house without a backward glance.

Maybe,  _ maybe, _ Abram could afford to stay here just one more day. Maybe even a week. He hadn’t seen his father’s men in over two weeks, and something deep within him screamed for a bit of rest, a chance to play at having a life that will never be his reality, but maybe, just for a moment, it could be his dream. And maybe,  _ just maybe, _ when all was said and done and Abram was free (if he ever got free), maybe he could stay. This seemed like the kind of place Abram would like to come back to. 

Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought perhaps he liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abram chooses a new name and decides to stay. No one but him is surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy I'm backkkkkkk. I'm gonna be real honest with you, I have no idea what's going on. I may write more? I may not? I probably will. But who could know for sure? Anyway, I wrote this for y'all, but also submitted it for my English creative writing assignment, bc kill two birds with one stone and all that, ya know. Yeah, I think that's it, I hope you like it!

Unsurprisingly, Abram did not sleep deeply that night. Too many thoughts raced through his mind, though not the ones that usually plagued his dreams. This time his thoughts didn't linger on blood and scars and fear, but instead focused on shoes and smoke and  _ Andrew _ .

Abram knew he should go. He knew he should leave and never look back. 

But as he paced the barnfloor in the moonlight hours of the morning, far before the golden fingers of sunlight pulled themselves above the horizon, Abram considered what it would be like to stay. To have a place where he was comforted and protected and maybe even cared for. To have a home, a place where he belonged. 

And instead of pushing those thoughts away like he usually would, he let them go, let them take over and crowd out the rest of his mind, drowning out the voice of his mother that whispered  _ “this is foolishness Abram. You know the rules. Run. Survive. Never stay in one place for too long. Never come back. And don’t get attached.”  _

Abram knew the rules. His whole life was dictated by the rules, and it needed to be. There had been too many close calls for it to be any other way. But his mother was gone now, and Abram was so,  _ so _ tired of running. 

Light footsteps by the doorway made Abram start, pulling him violently from his thoughts. He cast a quick glance around him, looking for something,  _ anything,  _ that could be used as a weapon, when he caught sight of blond hair and golden eyes. Abram relaxed. It was just Andrew. For some reason, it didn’t surprise him to see Andrew awake.

“I see you're still here,” Andrew said, his voice rough and low like he had just woken up. Considering the unholy hour it must be, Abram felt it was a safe assumption to make.

“Are you surprised?” Abram asked, pausing his path along the floor.

Andrew studied him for a minute before answering. “No.”

“No? But why not?”

“I told you last night I didn't believe you.”

“I could still leave.”

“You could,” Andrew said, looking unaffected. “But you won’t.”

Abram glared at him. “You don't know me.”

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said, little rabbit.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What would you have me call you?” Andrew asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Abram? Is that even your real name?”

Abram bristled. “It's real enough. It’s the realest thing about me.” 

Andrew hummed. “You are made of lies, rabbit.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Then give me something true.”

“Abram is the only truth I have left,” Abram said softly. “It’s my middle name. That’s what my mother used to call me.”

“‘Used to?’” Andrew asked.

“She died,” Abram said, clinical and unfeeling. 

Andrew just nodded. “What about your first name?”

“No. Too close to my father’s.” 

Andrew was silent for a minute. “Make your own.”

“What?”

“Do you want to be Abram? A lie disguised as the truth?”

Abram wasn’t really sure what he was getting at, but even the possibility of not being Abram, of not lying and hiding and running, always running, was tempting beyond belief. “No,” Abram heard himself whisper.  _ No, I don’t want to be Abram anymore. _ His mother’s voice screamed in his mind. He ignored her. 

“Then make your own truth.” Andrew said. “I’m guessing Abram isn't the only name you’ve had. So pick another one. Pick your own, and make it real.”

Behind Andrew, the sun was rising over the farm, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. He looks like an angel, Abram thought absentmindedly. Maybe he was. “Can I really do that? Can I… make my own truth?”

Andrew shrugged. “Why not?”

Abram didn't have a good answer for that, so he said nothing. Instead, he mentally went back through all of the past identities he had used on the run, trying to decide if there was a name close enough to real he wanted to keep. The problem was, most of his old names had too much trauma associated with them. When he was Alex, his father almost caught them, and they barely got away with their lives. As Chris, he got shot in the shoulder by one of his father’s men. In a moment of adolescent weakness, Stephan had kissed a girl and his mother gave him a black eye for his troubles. Henri stitched up a knife wound in his mothers side. Tyler buried his mother’s body. Dylan, James, and all the names in between were running, always running. 

Except for one. The name he had used right after his mother died, just for a month. It was the longest he had stayed in any one place. He might have stayed there forever, the thought of moving on without his mother too hard to bear, but paranoia got the best of him. The neighbors had started getting nosey and people began to recognize him around the town, so Abram had left. With no new name and no destination, he had wandered the countryside with no plan other than to keep moving. 

He had been sticking to his meger excuse of a plan quite well until last night, when he stumbled on this farm full of misfits that somehow looked like family. People who had welcomed Abram in with few questions and accepted his vague answers. People who fed him and made sure he was comfortable and talked to him, and now, offered him a whole new life, a real life, like it was nothing. Like it was easy. And maybe it was. 

“Neil,” Abram whispered eventually. 

Andrew looked up. “What?”

“Neil,” Abram repeated. “I think… I think I want to be Neil.”

“You don't have to decide right now.”

“I know. But I want to. Neil was the last name I had. It feels… unfinished, I guess.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Abram thought there was something poetic about reclaiming the name of the boy who was too tired to really leave but too scared to stay, to give him a life, a purpose, and maybe even a home. Of all of the people he had ever pretended to be, Neil felt like the closest to  _ himself  _ Abram had ever been. If he could even remember what being himself was like. He had been so many people, lived so many lives, he hardly knew if he could live his own.

“Okay.” Andrew said. He turned slightly and squinted at the rising sun. “It looks like the ever present march of time has continued for yet another day and morning is upon us.” Abram snorted, because who said things like that, but Andrew ignored him. “Everyone else should be waking up about now. Seems you’ll need to reintroduce yourself, Neil.”

Abram, no  _ Neil, _ he was Neil now, smiled. Something feathery and light fluttered in his chest, replacing the constant weight of dread he had carried since his mothers death. 

“Ask me something,” Andrew said suddenly, shattering the relative silence as they walked back towards the house. 

“What?” Neil asked.

“Ask me something. You answered my question last night and again this morning, so now it’s your turn. That way it’s fair. Ask me something, Neil.”

“Like what?” Neil asked, savoring the way his new name sounded when Andrew said it. 

Andrew shrugged. “Anything. Whatever you want to know.”

Neil studied him for a minute, and Andrew stared right back. “Why were you awake so early?” he asked finally, his glance snagging on the dark circles under Andrew’s eyes that no doubt mirrored Neil’s own. 

Andrew looked at him like he was stupid. “Really? You could have asked me literally anything, and you ask why I was up early? Are you kidding?”

“No?” It was Neil’s turn to shrug. “I’m curious. And I want more time to think before I ask you something else. I need to make sure I ask the right thing.

“What makes you think this is going to happen again.”

“Isn’t it? It’s like a game. Truth for truth. You did say you were going to try to figure me out, right?” For some reason, that thought was exciting instead of terrifying. Neil decided not to linger on that for too long. 

“Is the little rabbit finally going to stop running?” Andrew asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Neil said grinning cheekily. “Now stop avoiding the question. Why were you up so early?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he said instead of answering. 

Neil shrugged. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t. So.”

Andrew sighed. “I get nightmares,” he said after what felt like ten minutes but was probably closer to ten seconds. 

“Nightmares?” Neil asked. “Is that it? I get nightmares too, you know, you’re not special.” 

Andrew sent him a particularly nasty glare but Neil just laughed. That only made Andrew’s glare deepen. “I refuse to tell you anything at all ever again,” he declared. 

“Lies, you owe me one more truth,” Neil said. This did not seem to make Andrew any happier. 

“Later,” he ground out. “Ask me something later. We’re here.”

There they were indeed, in front of the house Neil had been so certain the night before he would never see again, full of people he had tried so hard to not remember but apparently couldn’t help it. 

“Ready?” Andrew asked, pausing at the door. 

Neil shrugged. He had never been less ready for anything in his entire life, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Andrew nodded and they went inside.

Which was slightly more anticlimactic than Neil had imagined. Soft humming floated from the kitchen accompanied by the sizzling of frying meat. From where he stood in the entryway, Neil could just make out Wymack sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and silently reading the newspaper. He glanced up when he heard the door open, but seemed unsurprised to see Andrew. 

“Mornin’ kid,” he said. “Abby’s makin’ bacon right now and there should be some coffee left if you wanna get some now before the rest of the hooligans wake up and-” he cut himself off when he finally noticed Neil hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Andrew, did you wake the new kid up? What part of ‘you need to be nice and welcoming’ do you not understand?” 

“I had to make sure the little rabbit wasn’t planning on running,” Andrew said, snatching a piece of bacon off a plate as Abby swatted him away with a towel. “Plus, he was already awake. We had so much time to talk, he even decided to pick a new name.”

Wymack turned an inquiring eye toward Neil. “That so? Well kid, what’ll you have us call you now?”

“Neil, sir. If… that’s okay?”

“Course it’s okay. Ain’t no problem with wantin’ a fresh start. I’ll be sure other kids know, if they ever drag their lazy butts out of bed.” 

As if summoned by his words, Dan stumbled out of the hallway in a loose cotton shirt and trousers, closely followed by Renee and Aaron. 

“Well, good afternoon,” Wymack said dryly as they all staggered in. “Glad you could join the rest of us in the waking world.”

“Shut up Pa, it’s literally seven o’clock in the morning,” Dan said, grabbing at the coffee pot Andrew was holding hostage. 

“Lazy, the whole lot of you. Now, back in my day-”

“Oh, here we go again,” Dan muttered, successfully prying the coffee away from Andrew without spilling any. They all seemed to tune Wymack out as he continued rambling on about how he always got up with the sun and nature was his alarm clock and so on. 

Neil hung back in the corner of the room, having finally pried himself away from the doorframe, content to just watch until everyone else got up. He only wanted to do new introductions once and he felt sort of overwhelmed and out of place with all of the practiced domesticity happening in front of him. 

Seth wandered out of his room soon after, stopping in another room on his way by. There was some rustling from the room, followed by a muffled shout and a thud. Seth sprinted out of the room, apparently fully awake after just getting out of bed, Matt hot on his tail. 

“Seth, I swear to god, if you wake me up by shoving me out of bed  _ one more time-” _

Seth cackled and danced out of the way. “Wake up before me one day and maybe I won’t!” 

“Stop fooling around,” Wymack grumbled. “Are y’all here?” He glanced around, then sighed more heavily than Neil thought the situation warranted, but he supposed he really didn't know. “Well, I reckon someone oughta go wake Kevin up. Whose turn is it?” 

A chorus of “Not it!” echoed through the room. Everyone not so subtly looked at Aaron, who sighed nearly as heavily as Wymack had. “Okay, alright, fine,” Aaron said in resignation. “I’ll go wake him up. Again.”

“Atta boy,” Wymack said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked by. 

Aaron rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he went back down the hallway, supposedly to go wake Kevin.

“Why does Aaron have to wake Kevin up?” Neil whispered to Andrew, who had appeared by his side. 

Andrew smirked slightly. “Kevin sleeps like the dead, and Aaron is apparently the only person he doesn’t want to murder on sight the first thing in the morning.” 

“Why not you? Can he really tell you apart right after waking up.” 

Dan had apparently been listening too, because she interrupted before Andrew could respond. “Lord, no. We did actually used to take turns waking Kevin up, but the last time it was Andrew’s turn he just stood in the doorway and threw things at Kevin until he woke up,which understandably made him super angry and he started throwing things back at Andrew. Kevin ended up chasing Andrew around the house chucking things at him while Andrew knocked things down in Kevin’s way so that he would trip on them. They ended up almost breaking Abby’s favorite vase, so Andrew has since been banned from waking Kevin up for the rest of the foreseeable future.”

“Good times,” Andrew said fondly, as Aaron appeared in the doorway. 

“Come on you big lug, help out a little,” Aaron muttered, dragging Kevin into the kitchen with him. 

“Hate you,” Kevin said, waving a lazy hand in Andrew’s general direction. He was leaning heavily against Aaron, which was almost comical considering the fact that Aaron was almost a whole foot shorter than Kevin. 

Aaron dumped Kevin into a chair at the table and Wymack pushed his half full coffee mug into Kevin’s unresisting hands. He stared at it blankly for a minute, then as if suddenly comprehending the purpose of it, he chugged the whole thing in two giant gulps. 

“Alrightly, now that everyone’s up,” Wymack side eyed Kevin, who remained obvious, “I’d like to reintroduce y’all to  _ Neil _ , here. As I said last night, he’ll be stayin’ with us now. Maybe if y’all behave like normal people for once, he’ll calm down enough to sleep in the house.” 

Andrew smirked at whatever face Neil had made, probably somewhere along the lines of  _ terror  _ i f he had to guess, and said, “Or maybe not.”

“Or maybe not,” Wymack sighed. Absentmindedly, Neil was aware of the others welcoming him and telling him how happy they were he had stayed, but he wasn’t really focused on it. Instead, he felt a brief flash of guilt for his overwhelming paranoia and his inability to sleep in a house full of strangers, but it was quickly replaced by anger at himself for feeling guilty in the first place. He had a real and valid reason to be paranoid, and no matter how much he wanted to stay, it was just too soon to trust so many people.  _ You can never be too careful, _ his mother’s voice whispered in his head. Neil chose to ignore how his very presence in this house distinctly broke his mother’s definition of “careful.”

Kevin stood up suddenly, jostling the table with his hip and proceeding to glare at it as if it’s very existence irked him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wymack asked.

“Horses,” Kevin said, as if that single word was a worthy explanation. 

Wymack sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot. “Can’t they wait a few minutes?” 

Kevin shook his head, not so subtly inching towards the door. 

“Fine.” Wymack rubbed a hand over his eyes and Neil wondered why he voluntarily put up with all of these kids. “Be gone with you.”

Kevin smiled triumphantly and marched towards the door, seemingly more awake now. Neil kind of wanted to follow, but held himself back. 

As if reading his mind, Andrew held a hand out in Kevin’s path, making him stop short. “Take him,” he said, nodding in Neil’s direction. 

“Obviously,” Kevin said, without looking back. Then he seemed to process what Andrew had said and looked around him, then back at Neil, then around him again, as if surprised that Neil hadn’t been next to him the whole time. Neil wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, so he chose to ignore it for the time being. “Well, come on,” he demanded, gesturing to his side. 

Neil hurried to get to him, but Wymack’s voice stopped him before they reached the door. 

“Wait, Neil.” Kevin huffed impatiently, but gestured for Neil to listen, leaning against the doorframe to wait. Neil paused and turned back to the group, who were all wearing vaguely similar expressions, something that maybe looked like acceptance, but Neil didn’t want to take the time to decipher that. Wymack smiled. “Welcome home, son.”

  
_ Home.  _ That had never been a real word in Neil’s vocabulary. It wasn’t something he knew how to have. But something inside him thrilled at the idea of staying, of belonging, of having a  _ home _ . He knew that it was risky and dangerous and that his mother was probably turning in her grave, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Because he had chosen to stay for now and maybe, just maybe, these people would choose to let him stay forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so umm like I said at the beginning, idk if there will be more, and if there is it will probably be a while from now. So. I hope that you've enjoyed it so far! Let me know what you thought, I'd love to know! And if you have any thoughts/suggestions of what you'd like to see or ideas you have of things that could happen, leave them in the comments, I'll take anything! (I have a vague idea of what could potentially happen but I'm open for inspiration!)

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say thank you to anyone who made it to the end. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I love all of you (I really hope some people read this so I’m not just talking to myself here cuz that would be awkward).


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